Evening Poem, January 9, 2019

I saw a redbird in a bush this January day
The bush was bare branches, brittle twigs
Grey as the winter sky
And the bright bird perched within, alone
Like a beating heart
Like the fire of life in some long-dead forest
Like living color against black and white
Like some remnant left over from the time
When life coursed over this little hill
Like a sparkling river

copyright 2019

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